


my bulimia

by simplyoverstated



Category: Scrubs (TV)
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexic, Anxiety, Bulimia, Carla - Freeform, Cutting, Depression, ED - Freeform, EDNOS, Eating Disorder, Elliot - Freeform, F/M, JD and Dr. cox, M/M, MIA - Freeform, Medical, Medicine, Mental Illness, No Sex, No Smut, Pass out, Passing Out, Perry - Freeform, Scrubs - Freeform, Self Harm, Sort of Friendship, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Turk, ana - Freeform, breakdown - Freeform, bulimic, cox - Freeform, jd - Freeform, just cheese, medical complications, perry cox - Freeform, sort of more, suicidal, suicidal!jd, trigger warning, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:13:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7671454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyoverstated/pseuds/simplyoverstated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>J.D. has to face the truth about the seriousness of his eating disorder when it causes problems at work. It affects his relationship with both Elliot and Dr. Cox, but not in the way he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blurring the line

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, so please be kind! All eating disorders are different, and this is just how I envision it going down for J.D.

     J.D.’s eyes opened slowly, his brain protesting the sudden influx of sunlight from his bedroom window. He groaned, and his head ached. What did he do last night? He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet landing in something sticky. “Euahhhg!” He had tread in a puddle of sick – his own, presumably. He looked around for something to wipe the mess up, and his eyes fell on the pile of covers behind him. They were breathing. Had he brought someone home last night? He couldn’t remember. Feeling a stab of trepidation, he lifted up a corner of the comforter, revealing a mess of straw-blond hair. It was Elliot, thank god. It was starting to come back to him now; they had gone to a bar with Turk and Carla, and things got crAyzee with the appletinis (At least for him).

     Trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake her, he stepped gingerly over the vomit on the floor, careful not to tread on the part of his foot that was already covered in the stuff. He leapt, balanced on the side of his foot for a second, then tumbled sideways, grabbing a lamp on his way down. The giant crash was accompanied by a squeal that escaped him on his way down, and the skinny blond in the bed jumped nearly a foot into the air, straight out of the tangle of bedding, and, screaming, rolled off the other side of the bed.

     “J.D.! I’m stuck…” her voice, muffled, was coming from the crack between the bed and the wall. From his position on the floor, J.D. couldn’t see her. He stifled a giggle, but the sound carried in the quiet morning air. “Don’t laugh at me, get me out of here!” her voice came shrilly, still muffled.

     “All right, I gotcha I gotcha”. He saw a crumpled up t-shirt under the bed and used it to wipe off his foot, then laid it unceremoniously over the mess on the floor. He climbed over the bed to see Elliot face down in the crack, one arm angled awkwardly against the wall, the other sticking up in the air, the fingers waving around helplessly.

     “Sometime soon please” she said, her voice slightly strained in her awkward position. He seized the arm that was sticking straight up and heaved her out of the crevice. They both rolled across to the other side of the bed, and she was on top of him now, holding his arms above his head with her slender fingers. “Well good morning, lover” she said in her sexy Elliot voice that was strangely attractive and hilariously nerdy at the same time. He loved it.

     “Good morning” he replied, and raised his head off the bed to kiss her. This was the way things were supposed to be. They broke apart, and Elliot smiled wryly. _Morning sex_! He thought.

     “We’re gonna be late for work!” She said, and leapt off the bed, stepping smartly over the T-shirt and skidding out into the hall towards the bathroom. He sighed; _goodbye morning sex_. Ah well. He heaved himself off the bed once more, waited for the dizziness to pass, and began cleaning up the mess on the floor. It had been a while since drinking made him that sick, and he hadn’t had that many ‘tinis. Well, he had been drinking on an empty stomach. Stupid. When was the last time he had a full meal? He couldn’t remember. It wasn’t too long ago, he didn’t think, but his brain was foggy.  _J.D., you’re so skinny! Oh my god, you’re smaller than me; you need to put on some weight._ Elliot’s words from the night before suddenly rang in his ears, but he shook them off. 

     After wiping up the last of it, J.D. stumbled into the kitchen and sleepily poured himself a glass of water. He threw two aspirin into his mouth and chased them with the entire glass. Just drinking the water made him feel a little bit better, but the full feeling in his stomach was instantly uncomfortable. _It’s just water, buddy, calm down_. He heard footsteps from Turk and Carla’s bedroom, and a sleepy-eyed Turk entered the kitchen.

     “Yo, what was all that noise? You and Elliot building forts or something?” _If only_ thought J.D., gazing up at the ceiling and picturing a giant castle made up of every blanket and pillow in the state. There would be endless pizza and ice cream, and they would make s’mores. _Mm, s’mores…_

     “Hey come back to me buddy” Turk was giving him a knowing look. “Giant pillow castle?”

     “You know me too well."

     “I’ve accepted the fact that you’ll never look at me like that.” Carla had entered the kitchen behind them, looking skeptically at the two men who had been gazing into each others eyes. They quickly looked away from one another, and Turk crossed over to her. 

     “Baby you know you’re my world” Turk wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into the air effortlessly. She giggled and kissed him passionately. Thinking he ought to leave them to it, J.D. snuck out quietly and went down the hall to join Elliot in the bathroom. She was in the shower, and he stripped, sliding in behind the curtain to stand next to her.

     “No shower sex. Remember what happened last time?”

     “Just saving water!” _Damn._

     “By the way, I heard Mrs. Carson is back in the ICU" she said conversationally. Mrs. Carson was a frequent flyer who was in and out of intensive care, and had been for the past six months. Even after close to a hundred examinations and tests, J.D. still had no idea what was wrong with her. It tore him apart, but he never let on how deeply it really affected him.

     “Again? Agh it’s so frustrating. Do you think you can help me out with this one Elliot?”

     “Can’t, I’ve got a full case load and Dr. Cox is on my ass. Hand me the shampoo?” He sighed and handed her the bottle from the shelf behind him. This was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

 

     “You coming?” Turk’s voice jerked J.D. out of a particularly strange daydream in which he rode a unicorn into the hospital and jousted with an irate Dr. Cox.

     “What?”

     “You coming to lunch?” J.D.’s stomach sank. He had been able to get out of eating lunch with them for the past few weeks, pretending he was overloaded with cases. It wasn’t exactly a lie; he _was_ a lot busier these days. He had gotten into the pattern of not eating all day at work. It made him feel less burdened somehow, light and floaty. He didn’t feel so anxious when Dr. Cox yelled at him for making a mistake, or when Dr. Kelso reminded him of the countless lawsuits hiding behind every patient.

     When he got home (if Turk wasn’t there), he would eat bowl after bowl of cereal, or toast, or whatever they had in the apartment, mindlessly shoving whatever it was into his mouth while he watched T.V. Then he would walk calmly to the bathroom, stick two fingers in his mouth and get rid of everything, feeling a foggy combination of relief and shame. The shame, however, lay quietly hidden behind the numbness he felt nearly all the time nowadays.

     Today, however, Turk knew he had just finished a case and hadn’t received a new one. He and Elliot were looking at J.D. expectantly, and he realized the silence had gone on a little too long. He hastened to think up an excuse, but came up blank.

     “Uh, yeah” he said awkwardly, and followed the two out of the ward and into the elevator down to the main floor.

     They stood in line together at the cafeteria, Turk and Elliot chatting good-naturedly. J.D., however, was preoccupied. He eyed the options, all of them (he tried to convince himself) seemed unappealing. He didn’t want to lose the empty feeling he loved so much, and none of the food on the line was really worth it. Ah, well; what choice did he have? He reached for a salad, but hesitated, looking down the line towards the steaming hot hamburgers. Elliot reached around him and grabbed a salad, while Turk went straight for the burgers, his eyes hungry.

     One burger couldn’t hurt, could it? He hadn’t really eaten in days; this couldn’t set him back that far. He grabbed a burger, tater tots and a diet soda and joined Elliot and Turk at the table. He took a bite, and closed his eyes in pleasure. It was better than he could have imagined. How long had it been since he’d had a burger? Even at home, when he was stuffing everything he could in his mouth, he rarely if ever warmed anything up, let alone cooked anything. It was heaven.

     The rest of the burger and most of the tater tots were gone surprisingly quickly as he chatted with Turk and Elliot about various patients, money, and the latest hospital gossip. Chugging the last of his sweet tea, Turk took off saying something about his new attending, and Elliot left shortly after. J.D. was left staring at his nearly empty plate. A strange mix of emotions had taken up residence in his chest.

     The pleasure that he had felt while eating was gone. A stab of panic took its place as he felt the weight of the food in his stomach, accompanied by a disturbingly strong wave of self-hatred and guilt. He didn’t have to have eaten this. He could have eaten something healthier, or made up an excuse to get out of this. Why hadn’t he tried harder?

     He knew why. He wanted to eat it, he craved it. He was weak, and faced with temptation was unable to resist. The panic grew and he realized that he had already decided to get rid of it. He had never done it at the hospital before, but it now felt urgent that it be done as soon as possible. He rushed to dump his tray and left the cafeteria, debating with himself about the best way to do it. The familiar dizziness followed him out the door.

     He decided to go to one of the patient rooms that was unoccupied and use the private bathroom there. It was surprisingly easy to do this undetected, and he was shortly walking back out feeling empty and light once more. Almost immediately he ran into (literally) an angry Dr. Cox.

     “Where have you been, newbie?” he said, crossing his arms and looking impatiently expectant.

     “uhh…well..”

     “Because I explicitly remember asking you to check the chest tube in 114, only to discover that a nurse got there before you did. Now you may think I have all the time in the world to follow you around and look over your little shoulder and…” but his words faded behind a loud ringing in J.D.’s ears. The room spun around him, and Dr. Cox’s angry face was suddenly distorted with bubbles and blotches of darkness. Then there was nothing.


	2. What doesn't kill you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update, and sorry it's a bit shorter than the last one! I hope you enjoy (P.S. I don't own scubs however much I wish I did)

   “Newbie! Are you even listening to me?” The young doctor’s eyes were glazed over, and he looked confused. Then Dr. Cox noticed how pale his face had become.

     “Hey, Ferrah, you still with us?” Suddenly, J.D.’s eyes rolled back and his knees buckled beneath him. “Hey, newbie! J.D.!” he rushed forward, but he wasn’t fast enough to catch the thin figure before he hit the floor.

     “I need some help over here!” he was by J.D.’s side in a second, checking his pulse and tapping his cheek. “Hey, Newbie, can you hear me? J.D., J.D…” but the eyes remained closed, unresponsive.

            Dr. Cox felt a coldness in his chest that he never felt with patients before. Usually he felt exhilarated, clear-headed. Now he felt…what was the word? Helpless. Three nurses had rushed over to help, and a crash cart was suddenly beside him.

     “I have a pulse” he said, trying to pull his brain back into the situation at hand. “Unresponsive to pain.”

     As they worked, transferring the young doctor to a gurney and giving him oxygen, Dr. Cox stepped back. He needed to think. This was a puzzle to be solved; young, healthy people didn’t just lose consciousness for no reason. Had he seen any signs that might point to what was ailing the kid?

            He thought about previous weeks. The dark circles under J.D.’s eyes had maybe been more prominent than before. The kid’s temper was shorter, but Dr. Cox had just thought that was him growing a spine at last. He would run the usual tests, and see where those got him. He hoped, more than he ever had before, that he wouldn’t find anything. Maybe the kid was just overworked. He looked down at J.D.’s gaunt, pale face, and felt a deep sense of shame at not being able to protect him. If anyone didn’t deserve to get sick, it was J.D.

 

* * *

 

     “Bambi” Carla’s voice sounded far away at first, but then it was right next to him. “Baambii, are you back with us?” His eyes flitted open to see her smiling down at him. It wasn’t her usual warm smile; there was a tiny hint of worry behind it.

     “Heeyy” his voice sounded raspy and weak. He tried to sit up, but a rush to his head made him lay back down again. “What happened?”

            “You passed out Bambi. You’ve been out for a good ten minutes. You gave us a bit of a scare.” He looked around. Turk and Carla were on the right side of the bed, Elliot stood to his left, and Dr. Cox was sitting in a chair against the wall behind her. He stood up now, walking over to stand next to Elliot.

     “We’re gonna keep you here until your test results come back” he said, looking slightly awkward. He cleared his throat,  looked around the room once more, then spun on his heel and was out the door.

            “Guys, come on, is that really necessary? I just didn’t get much sleep last night,” J.D. looked pointedly at Elliot, who blushed, “and I must have locked my knees or something.”

            “You know we can’t let you keep treating patients without knowing what’s wrong, and you hit your head pretty hard, too” said Carla, using her ‘you better do what I say or else’ strong Latina mom voice. “You’re not going anywhere.” He knew it was no use to argue.

            The others gave him words of support, then left one by one. They all had patients and other work they had to get to. He felt a stab of guilt; he had patients too, patients that Dr. Cox now had to take on. How much more useless could he possibly be? _It’s all because you caved_ said a voice in his head. _If you hadn’t eaten this wouldn’t have happened._

     He laid back on his pillows. He felt disoriented and frustrated. The last thing he needed was his friends snooping into his health. He wasn't an idiot; he knew what he had been doing wasn't good for him. He probably had low iron, low blood sugar or electrolytes. He knew he must be deficient in potassium at the very least, as well as being dehydrated. His head throbbed. 

    He had to think of something to do. His I.V. caught his eye. He followed the tube up to the bag hanging above his bed. Shit, it was glucose. So they had already tested his blood sugar. They were pumping him full of empty calories. He didn't want it.  _Why do I want to feel sick?_ It didn't make any sense. But he loved it: feeling empty and dizzy and numb. When he was undernourished he didn't really have to care about anything. Nothing mattered, and it felt really good not to care for once. He always cared too much.

     His door opened suddenly, the sound pulling him out of his thoughts. It was Elliot. 

            “Hey Elliot! _Elliiiooott”_ he said, imitating the voice of E.T., trying to appear to be in good spirits. It didn’t seem to be working. Elliot was looking at him with concern and impatience. He felt his smile fall away. “What?”

            “J.D., we have to talk.” His stomach hit the ground, and a coldness spread through his chest. The familiar anxiety made him want to run and never stop. He just sat there, frozen. Then he tried to rearrange his face to look nonchalant; she was looking at him expectantly. He thought he should say something.

            “What’s wrong Elliot?” he attempted a confused, clueless expression here. She sighed heavily. This couldn’t be good.

            “J.D., we need to talk about what’s been going on with you lately.” He gulped. He didn’t think she knew anything about his eating habits. Hadn’t he been careful around her? Hadn’t he always pretended to eat normally when he was with her or Turk or Carla, sneaking away to vomit only when he knew it was safe? He wracked his brain, trying to remember a time when he might have slipped up. His thoughts were coming slowly and sluggishly.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He decided to go with playing dumb. Elliot rolled her eyes.

            “Of course you know what I’m talking about. You barely eat anymore, you take every extra shift you can get, you don’t sleep and when you do you toss and turn. You’re working yourself too hard, J.D. It’s not healthy.” He sighed internally. Ok, she just thought he was overworked. Good. He could play that angle.

            “Ok, so maybe I’ve been pushing myself a bit too much, but I’m fine Elliot! I’ll take it easy from now on. I’ll take this as my wakeup call, ok?” She looked skeptical.

            “J.D., you _passed out_. You’re a doctor, you need to set limits for yourself.”

     His chest tightened with the familiar guilt. _Your patients rely on you, J.D. You’re letting everybody down._ Maybe he really should stop. For some reason, this thought scared him more than any of the others; he had never challenged the voice that told him not to eat something, or to eat everything in sight, or to go into the bathroom and stick his fingers down his throat. He constantly told himself that this was his own little experiment, and he could stop whenever he wanted. However, just the thought of eating normally made his blood go cold. Why?

     Elliot intruded on his thoughts once more. He realized they had been sitting in silence for a good minute.

     “I just want to know you’re being healthy, ok? I care about you J.D.”

     “I know. I’m sorry Elliot, I will take better care of myself.” She seemed satisfied that she had gotten her point across, though she looked at him seriously for another moment before turning and leaving the room. Once again he was alone with the beeping machines.


	3. Do no harm

 J.D. changed back into his scrubs in the empty locker room. It was close to midnight now, and he had been released with a bottle of iron tablets and instructions to rest. He hated being treated like a patient, but was relieved he seemed to be back off everyone’s radar where his health was concerned. All the labs had come back normal, apart from slight anemia and dehydration. There was a small part of him that felt uneasy about this, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. _It’s because you want them to find out,_ said the voice; the one that haunted his dreams and most of his waking hours. It was his own voice, but somehow colder, meaner. _You should be sicker from what you’ve been doing to yourself. You’re even failing at this._

            He screwed up his eyes, trying to get rid of the coldness in his chest. His palms were sweating, and he started to feel panicky. He wanted to run away, to leave the hospital, the state, the country. This was too much for one person to handle.

            He walked sluggishly out to the parking lot, thinking he would drive home and maybe talk to Turk. They didn't have to talk about the cold panic that accompanied his every waking moment. They could talk about Carla and Elliot. They could talk about their favorite t.v. show. It didn't matter. He always felt better with his friend, he knew. 

           But Turk didn’t need to be burdened with all of J.D.’s shit, did he? He had Carla and the hospital; he had enough to worry about, especially after J.D.’s fainting spell today. Oh god, maybe they would want to talk about that. Of course they would. The thought of facing that conversation felt like lead in his stomach.

            Thoughts continued to race in his head as he got on his scooter and pulled out of the lot. The streets were nearly empty. As he crossed an intersection he pictured a semi truck coming out of nowhere and smashing him into a pulp.

            As he rounded a corner, he saw the neon sign of a Wendy’s flash up; ”Open 24 hours!”. Before he really had time to think about it, he turned sharply into the drive through lane. A flat, crackly voice greeted him.

            “Hi welcome to Wendy’s what can I get you”. He squinted at the sign, his stomach growling. What was he doing here?

            “Yeah, can I get two number 8’s, a number 10 and 3 frosties please?” _More._ “Oh and can I get an extra order of fries?”

            “Medium or large, sir?”

            “um, all large.”

            “Any sauces for the nuggets?”

            “yeah, all of ‘em.”

            “next window please.”

            A rush of adrenaline hit him as he pulled up to the window. The girl looked tired and bored as she took his card and handed him the frosties. He put them carefully in the basket on the side of his scooter, grabbed the rest of the food and card as she handed them to him and piled them into the basket on the other side. He stuffed a few fries into his mouth before driving off.

 

* * *

 

            _This is low, buddy._ He was standing bent over the toilet bowl in a dirty gas station bathroom. His own vomit coated the first two fingers of his right hand, and the knuckles showed red where his teeth had dug into them. _You shouldn’t have done that._ He should have been stronger. He should have just gone home and gone to bed. He glanced at his watch. 1:38 in the morning. Damnit.

           He straightened up, and the room spun. He felt a sharp pain just below his ribs, but he ignored it. He had learned to ignore all the aches and pains he felt lately. His hands were shaking, but he felt that familiar feeling of peaceful relief washing over him. He felt numb, and that was better than the alternative. Now all he wanted to do was sleep for days. He shakily washed his hands and pushed open the door.

           He grabbed a box of diuretics off the shelf and stuffed it quietly into his pocket before hurrying past the acne-ridden teen who stood behind the counter. The boy was looking at him quizzically, but he didn’t seem to have noticed J.D. taking the pills. J.D. pushed his way out the door. His exit was accompanied by the cheery jingling of the bell.

 

* * *

       

            When he got home, he collapsed onto his bed and was asleep almost instantly. He dreamt that his legs were weak and could not hold his weight, and everyone around him was telling him to just get up and walk. Eventually they left him behind, one by one, until he was alone. He woke in a panicky sweat, shivering and shaking. His entire body was soaking wet, and his abdomen hurt him so badly he thought he might throw up. He felt panicked and powerless; was he dying?

           “Turk!” There was no answer. “Turk! Carla!” the apartment was silent. He screwed up his eyes against the pain, shouting out as another wave came shooting through his body. He angled his body awkwardly so he could see the clock on the table next to his bed. 5:56 am. Of course. Turk and Carla both worked the 6 am shift on Thursdays. He was alone in the apartment.

           However frequently he imagined dying in his sleep, or in a car crash, he felt nothing but panic at the feeling he had now. If this was really the end…He definitely believed it could be. He hadn’t felt pain like this before. This was too real for him. J.D. preferred fantasy over reality at times like this. Wouldn't this be so much easier if he were in control? If this were a sitcom and there was a laugh track? 

           He couldn’t think, and he was starting to hyperventilate. The room swam.  _Calm down, buddy._ He took three deep breaths and closed his eyes. He didn’t need a panic attack on top of everything else. He suddenly felt his throat catch, and began to cough violently. He felt the bile rise in his throat, and hastily leaned over the side of the bed. In the pale light from the streetlamp outside his window, he saw that what he had coughed up was thick and red.  _Blood._ shit, he needed to get to the hospital, now.

           Could he drive? He wasn’t about to call an ambulance for himself. He sat up gingerly. If he didn’t move too much it wasn’t so bad. He tried standing up, slowly this time, but he couldn’t straighten up without immense pain. It would be dangerous to drive, he knew. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. _Do no harm._

           He managed to stumble over to where the phone sat on a table by the door. Turk and Carla were at work, and he didn't want them to worry anyways. He couldn’t call Elliot. He didn’t quite know why, he just knew he didn’t want her to see him like this, or ask any questions. Before he could think he had dialed Dr. Cox’s number.

           “Why hello Martha.” J.D. cringed, partly with pain, partly at Dr. Cox calling him a girl’s name. sometimes he didn't care. Sometimes it made him angry. Mostly it just hurt, but he would never admit that. 

           “I need a ride to the hospital.” He knew his breath sounded labored and his voice was weak. Dr. Cox’s tone changed immediately to one of concern, which surprised him. He didn’t think he had ever heard Dr. Cox sound so worried.

           “What’s going on, Newbie? What’s wrong?”

           “I just need a ride, can you come get me?” He would answer any questions when Dr. Cox got there. Right now he just wanted to be rid of the terrible coldness in his chest.

           “I’m on my way.” *click*. And silence. J.D. was alone, the pain in his abdomen immobilizing him as he lay and stared at the dark ceiling. He felt scared and panicky, and his heart was nearly pounding out of his chest. He was terrified, but it was more than that. For the first time in a long time, he realized he didn’t want to die. He said it out loud to himself softly.

           “I don’t want to die.”

 


	4. Mind and Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains imagery associated with self harm and suicide, and may be extremely triggering for someone struggling with any of these things. Please Please do not read if you feel you might be triggered by this.

            It was only 10 minutes after leaving the hospital that Dr. Cox let himself into the apartment.

            The living room was empty, but he saw one of the bedroom doors was slightly ajar, and a light was on inside. He made his way over to it and pushed it open. There was the kid, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the side of the bed. Something was wrong. His head was lolled back and his eyes were fluttering. He was so pale, and something that looked like blood covered his front and the floor beside him. Dr. Cox’s blood turned cold.

            “J.D.!” This was like the other day all over again, except now they were alone, and it looked like the kid was bleeding out. He quickly lowered J.D. onto his back, grabbing a small pillow to slip under his head as he rolled him onto his side so he wouldn’t choke. He continued to talk to J.D., shaking his shoulder and tapping his cheek. “J.D., can you hear me? J.D., wiggle your fingers if you can hear me.” The young doctor was still.

            Dr. Cox pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket, pressing it into J.D.’s knuckles one by one, hard. Nothing. His phone was out almost immediately, and he dialed the emergency room at Sacred Heart.

            “I need an ambulance at 1436 Amber way, it’s apartment 4B.”

            After confirming that he was a doctor with the hospital and was able to handle the situation while the ambulance was on the way, he hung up and returned to examining the kid. As his fingers flittered over J.D.’s head, around his shoulders and chest, he realized he could feel every bone, every rib beneath the kid’s thin t-shirt. His arms were so skinny that Dr. Cox could wrap his hand completely around them. He cut the shirt away, and was horrified at what he saw. A skeletal figure lay before him, the skin pale and paper thin. J.D.’s collarbones stood out starkly, and his hipbones were prominent above the waistline of his scrub bottoms. J.D.’s stomach, however, was distended, swollen and bruised. What was going on?

            It had to be internal bleeding. There was nowhere else the blood could be coming from. There was nothing he could do here.  

            Here he was again; helpless. J.D. was sick, maybe dying. What would cause this much weight loss _and_ internal bleeding? His mind tried to tie the jumbled puzzle into something recognizable. Nothing made sense. Loss of consciousness, irritability, anemia and low electrolytes, extreme weight loss…

            Wait. It couldn’t be, could it? He would know if J.D. had an eating problem. Of course he would. Wouldn’t he?

            Suddenly J.D. started to stir, moaning softly.

            “J.D., do you know where you are?”

            “Perry?” Then he was out again. Dr. Cox stroked J.D.’s hollow cheek softly. He smiled a little to think how J.D. would react if he knew he was doing this. He should have given the kid the hug he wanted so badly years ago.

            “What have you done to yourself, J.D.?”

 

* * *

 

            Telling everyone what happened and what he suspected about what J.D. was doing was the worst part. They were all there at the hospital except Barbie, who arrived out of breath and wheezing. It was her day off, but it only took her 5 minutes to come bursting through the doors of the ER and start assaulting him with a million questions.

            “Ok, you definitely need to stop squeaking like a chipmunk or I swear to god I will get security to escort you out.” To his surprise, she was unphased. She took a deep breath, looked him right in the eye and spoke slowly and pointedly.

            “Tell me what happened. Now.” Taken aback, he quickly explained how he had found J.D. and that he was in surgery.

            “It looked like internal bleeding to me.”

            “Wh-what would…how…” Fantastic, she was starting to cry now. He couldn’t deal with this right now. He had to think.  

            “I’m gonna go check in on the surgery.”

            “I’ll come with you!” _Ugh._

            “Fine, but under no circumstances are you allowed to talk.” She had already started walking quickly towards the elevator. He followed begrudgingly.

            Carla was already in the observation room. He could tell she had been crying, but now she was just watching intently, eyes red and swollen. Turk, of course, was in the operating room. He was facing away from them.

            Dr. Cox’s eyes fell on the operating table. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t take his eyes off that pale face. J.D. was always talking, laughing, working. Now he was still, pale and cold. He didn’t look…alive.

 

* * *

 

            It was a tear in the esophagus, Turk told them later. They had got there in time, and J.D. was going to be ok. What he didn’t say was what they were all thinking anyways. Carla had her suspicions for weeks. Elliot had denied it, but now how could she? Turk had seen this kind of damage before, upstairs in the eating disorder ward. 

            Why had none of them seen it? Why hadn’t J.D. told them something was wrong? What would happen now?

            They all stood in silence. Elliot was crying, clutching tightly to Carla’s hand. Turk sat down heavily and let his head fall into his hands.

            Dr. Cox stared straight ahead. This wasn’t supposed to happen to a good kid like J.D. But it had, and he knew what came next.

 

* * *

_Is this rock bottom?_  J.D. was laying on his bed in his new room at The Callahan Rehabilitation Center for Eating Disorders. The mattress was hard, and the whole room smelled strongly of flowers. He could imagine the smell stemming from the gaudy, flowery wallpaper that surrounded him on all sides.

            Yes, this was rock bottom. He had hurt Elliot. He had hurt Turk, and Carla. He could still see the looks on all their faces when he told them what he had been doing.

            He didn’t really have a choice. They were all there when he woke up from surgery, groggy and in pain. He could tell by their faces that they knew already, but Turk still sat down next to him and explained where he was and that they had performed surgery for a torn esophagus. Then he asked him gently what had happened. J.D. was tired. Tired of lying, tired of caring, tired of living like this. So he told them, matter-of-factly, that he threw up sometimes. He was stressed, tired, he knew it was terrible and he shouldn’t. He wouldn’t do it anymore. He could tell they didn’t believe him. He didn’t blame them. He wanted to disappear.

            Dr. Cox hadn't been there. He tried to pretend that didn’t hurt, but it did. Anyways, it didn’t really matter anymore. He was here, and they were all still at Sacred Hart. The one thing that he could control, the one thing that was allowing him to keep going, was being taken away from him. And he couldn’t even be around his friends.

            He was sick. That’s what they said when Elliot brought him to be checked in. He was sick, but they would help him get better. _Bullshit._ He helped real sick people get better. He needed to be there for his patients, for Dr. Cox, for everyone. If they couldn’t rely on him he was basically useless, and he knew it. What did they care what he did when he was alone, how he coped? As long as he was doing his job well -

            His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door, followed almost immediately by a small woman in a bright red blazer. Her smile seemed to be plastered on her face, and she waddled good naturedly over to the side of his bed.

            “Can I see your left arm please, John?” He sat up gingerly and offered her his arm. He was still sore from the surgery a couple weeks ago. It felt like it had been a lot longer than that.

            “Your doctor’s ordered an I.V. That’s just a needle that goes into your –“

            “I know, I’m a doctor.” Her smile faded.

            “Alrighty then, let’s get started.” He had been rude, and she was just doing her job. He felt guilty, but he somehow couldn’t muster up the energy to be polite right now. He didn’t need to be here. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he had fucked everything up.

            She missed the vein the first time. Carla would have gotten it on the first try. Then she waddled out again without a word, leaving him to lie back on the rock hard bed, alone.

 

* * *

 

            Elliot visited a lot at first. Turk tried, but J.D. could tell it was hard for him. Their relationship had always been fun and light-hearted, even when things got tough in medical school. Besides, J.D. didn’t want to see him if it meant his friend would look at him differently. Carla made Turk come, though. It was always awkward, and to J.D. it felt like things would never be the same between them.

            When Elliot was there he felt even more alone. He could feel himself shutting down whenever she tried to talk to him about anything. There had never been this much distance between them, and he could tell she felt it too. If he couldn’t talk to Elliot, who could he talk to?

            Days turned into weeks, and at first he felt everything so acutely. He felt angry and depressed. It was like a rock was crushing his insides.

As time went on, however, he started to feel numb and empty, wondering if he would ever feel anything ever again. It was like he was a socket that had been overloaded, and now he was broken.

            On top of all of it, he was gaining weight. He didn’t know why this felt like the worst part. Maybe it was because, for the past few months, a year maybe, he had felt like losing weight was all he had to hold on to. _It’s sad, that’s what you were living for, isn’t it?_  It was. He realized it a week in, when the number on the scale flashed up before him, and the nurse smiled.

            “You’ve done so well!”

 

* * *

 

            He tried. He tried, but he couldn’t cut deep enough. It didn’t really hurt, until he hit the vein. Then it was sharp and hot. He wasn’t crying; he was just…nothing.

            The blood kept clotting, it wouldn’t flow. It was like his body and his mind were fighting each other for his life. His brain wanted to die, but his body was still fighting to keep him alive despite his best efforts.

            Blood covered the floor, his clothing, his hands. He had seen this much blood before, but the fact that it was now his own struck him as odd, even a little funny. He didn’t know why.

            He was tired now. He didn’t want to make another cut. His head swam, and his vision was blurry. He realized he was shaking. He realized he liked it.

            Suddenly he was irresistibly exhausted. And he sat down with his back against the wall, absently running his fingers over his mutilated wrists, covered in sticky, half-dried blood. He could sleep now…

            But there was a pounding on the door to the bathroom now.

            “Just let me sleep” he mumbled. Then his eyes closed, and he was dreaming about his mother, and the sun warming his face. He dreamt about Turk laughing and Dr. Cox’s sharp, blue eyes. Not angry, but…intense. He felt warm and safe. Then he woke up.


	5. The Aftermath

Soft, half whispering voices.

            “I don’t know how he got the blade! He must have snuck it from one of the examination rooms.”

            “Maybe…It’s so sad, isn’t it? I mean, he was a doctor.”

            “He’ll get through this. I’ve seen worse off people make it out of this place.”

            “Not many get far afterwards, though.”

            The voices stopped suddenly as J.D. let out a small noise. He tried to speak, but found it extremely difficult. With great effort, he managed to open his eyes, and immediately closed them again at the influx of bright, white light. His wrists hurt, but it was a far away kind of hurt. His mind felt far away from his body, too.

            “John? Are you awake?” He recognized the voice of the nurse who had given him an I.V. during his first week here. Her name was Jackie.

            He tried to speak once more.

            “Swhe—where am…Where…”

            “You’re at Callahan, love. You cut yourself up pretty bad last night, so we gave you something to help calm your nerves for a little bit while we got you stitched up.”

            His heart sank and his blood seemed to run cold at the memory of what he had done. Part of him felt embarrassed, trapped, anxious. Part of him was disappointed it hadn’t worked, and he was still here. His life would never be the same, and he had tried to run, but he had failed. And now he had to face the consequences. He hadn’t planned for that.

            He didn’t open his eyes for a long time after that, but when he did the two nurses had gone. His eyes fell to his wrists, where large white bandages had been applied. A spot of blood was seeping through a little on the right one. They were starting to hurt pretty badly now. _You deserve to feel the pain._

            Looking around the room, he noted that anything that would contain sharp objects (trach kits, scalpels, etc.) had been removed. He also noticed that a nurse was sitting just outside the door, with a clear view of him. But all he could think, in his semi-drugged state, was that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and they might not notice if he didn’t eat today. Maybe, if he could get out of here, he could go back to starving, and then maybe they would let him die.

  

* * *

 

            His arms itched. Scabs and black stitches lined the areas where his blade had cut, standing out on the angry red skin of his wrists. Sometimes he would remove his bandages and just look at them when no one was around. But this was rare.

            There always seemed to be someone by his bedside. He suspected Carla had made up a schedule of some kind, like when Dr. Cox lost three patients and spent a week drinking himself into a stupor. When it wasn’t one of his friends, it was his brother, or one of the nurses, or an orderly.

            The first time Carla came to see him after what happened, she threw herself onto the bed next to him and squeezed him in a tight hug.

            “I’m so sorry, Bambi. I’m so sorry.” He had thought about what he would say to all of them. He would say he was ok, that he made a mistake, that he wouldn’t do it again. He would lie. But now, in her arms, every word was gone from his mind, and the tears came in their stead.

            She cried with him for a while, and then they just lay together. Nothing more needed to be said. He felt safe and loved.

            When Elliot came, he could tell she had the intention of keeping things light. It was approximately 3 seconds before her forced smile fell, and she began to sob. He held her as she cried. It was strange, this reversal of roles. But for the first time since his collapse he felt like he was the strong one. It felt good, if only for a moment.

            Still Dr. Cox didn’t come. J.D. waited, but he didn’t come.

 

* * *

 

            A couple days after the incident, there was a soft knock on the door.

            “Come in.” J.D. was tired. Was this another nurse come to stick him with a needle? Maybe they were coming to lock him away in some mental hospital. He wouldn’t blame them.

            The door swung open, and there was Turk. In one hand, he held up a stack of DVD’s. In the other, a pizza box. J.D. could smell the pizza, wafting towards him.

            “Dude. You missed pizza night.” J.D. looked at him for a moment. Then he laughed sourly, holding up his bandaged arms.

            “Yeah, I’ve been a bit busy.”

            “I know, man. I know.” Turk’s smile fell, but only for a moment. He threw himself down on the lazy boy next to the bed and set the pizza down in front of J.D. “That’s why I brought it to you.”

            J.D. looked down at the pizza, then he looked back up at Turk. He was embarrassed to feel tears welling up in his eyes, but he couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat.

            “I ca – I can’t do it, Turk. I can’t do it anymore.”

            Turk leaned forward. Looking right back at J.D. without wavering.

            “Yes. You can.”

            “I’m tired, Turk. I’m tired, I say it all the time, but no one hears it. No one understands.”

            “So you’re tired. I get that, man, I do. But that’s why you’re here. We get it, J.D., we want to help.” He took a deep breath. “I know you’re tired, J.D., but you just gotta keep trying. You just gotta keep showing up, man. I don’t know if it’ll get any easier, I really don’t. But it’s worth it, isn’t it? And I know you’re strong enough, J.D., I know that. “

            “Am I, Turk?” J.D. felt an anger flare up in his chest. “Cause for some reason I don’t feel that strong right now.” He raised his arms once more before letting them fall back to the bed heavily.

            “You know what J.D.? You’re gonna have to be.”

            “Why?” They were both nearly yelling now.

            “Because we need you J.D.! We need you, man, don’t you get that?” Turk had been standing, but now he sat back down heavily, burying his face in his hands. “We need you J.D. _I_ need you, man, come on.” His voice was quiet and muffled behind is hands. When he finally removed his hands from his face, J.D. could see his cheeks were wet with tears.

            J.D. tried to speak, but the words would not come. Turk took a deep breath, covering his face with his hands once more. He took several more deep breaths, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. J.D. had never seen Turk like this.

            After another minute, Turk looked up at him, his eyes red. It struck J.D. how tired he looked.

            “J.D., you have to try. I know you’re tired, I know that. But you’re my best friend, J.D., and I don’t think I could take it if I lost you man. I don’t think – I don’t think I could take it.”

            There were tears streaming down both their faces now. J.D. wanted nothing more than to get up and hug his friend, but there were tubes and wires attached everywhere, and an I.V. in his arm.

            He reached out his hand towards his friend, and Turk took it. They sat in silence for nearly a minute. Then Turk spoke.

            “Dude. We are such chicks.” They both laughed, and J.D. wiped tears off of his cheeks with the back of his bandages. It felt good to laugh.

            “So, are we gonna watch this or not?” said Turk, also wiping tears from his face with his sleeve. J.D. nodded, and Turk crossed the room to the small TV mounted on the opposite wall. The familiar theme song of _Family Matters_ filled the room.

 

            Turk flipped open the pizza box and took a slice. Looking sideways at J.D., he took a bite.

            J.D. took a shaky breath, looking at the pizza like it was a bomb about to go off. Turk decided not to push it.

            A sudden memory of J.D. in college, eating pizza, laughing and playing video games hit him. His heart sank. He knew his friend was in pain, and he was going to do everything in his power to make things ok.

            After about half an hour of watching the show, Turk saw J.D. Reach into the box and pull out the smallest slice of pizza. He stared at it for a moment, seeming to wrestle with himself internally. Then, after a deep, slow breath, he took a small bite, chewed, and swallowed. Turk smiled to himself.

 

* * *

 

            Elliot told Dr. Cox that J.D.’s cheeks had more color, that he was smiling more and gaining weight. Turk talked to Carla in the hallways about something funny J.D. had said when he visited him last week.

            Todd, Laverne, even Dr. Kelso had visited the kid (if only to make sure he wasn’t going to sue the hospital). But Dr. Cox couldn’t bring himself to go.

            He couldn’t explain why, but he felt…betrayed somehow. And awkward. And scared. But he would never tell anyone that, not even Carla, who bugged him day and night about going to see J.D.

            The image of J.D. lying in a pool of blood just wouldn’t leave his mind. It was the night the kid had called him, the night he found him, alone and unconscious. Sometimes in his mind’s eye he would even see J.D.’s wrists slashed and bloody, even though he hadn’t seen him since before he tried to kill himself at that awful place.

            J.D. had tried to kill himself. From what Dr. Cox heard, he almost succeeded. How could he do that? _How could he do that to me?_   He was a good doctor, the best Dr. Cox had seen in a long time. But he broke.

            How many times had Dr. Cox almost broken? But he pulled himself back, every time. _Every time?_

            Well, almost every time.

            He pushed the thought away, and reached for the next patient chart.

 


	6. Are you drunk?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a bit and changed some things, I hope you enjoy!

            It had been nearly a month. J.D.’s wrists had all but healed, and he was sitting alone in his apartment, eating a sad-looking microwave dinner that was still cold in the middle. He didn’t know how he had managed it, but he convinced them to let him transfer to the day program at the center, so that he could come home and be with his friends – his family – at night.

            Tonight, however, was one of the rare times when Turk, Elliot and Carla were all on call at the hospital. J.D. wanted nothing more than to be there with them, but he was still not cleared by the board to return to work.

            He picked listlessly at the soggy green beans in the plastic dish. He couldn’t bring himself to touch whatever the other stuff was; it was smothered in gravy.

            He worked hard to eat well, because it made his friends feel better. He could tell it worried them a lot when he struggled with a meal, so he worked to hide it. But it was hard.

            He tossed the rest of the meal, barely touched, into the trash can in the kitchen. Then he went into the living room and flopped down on the couch. _Fuck_.

            Suddenly there was an angry hammering on the door. A pause, then the hammering resumed.

            “J.D.! J.D., you there?” It was Dr. Cox. J.D.’s jaw dropped, and he sat unmoving for a second, shocked.

            “J.D.! Open up!” J.D. shook himself, then made his way over to the door and opened it cautiously. There stood Dr. Cox, swaying slightly. His eyes were red.

            “Are you drunk?” It was a question, but J.D. knew the answer already. He had seen it before. He felt a stab of worry, and…fear. He hadn’t seen Dr. Cox in over three months –  why was he here now, stumbling drunk?

            “Maybe.” Said Dr. Cox. He swayed dangerously again, and J.D. reached out intuitively to grab his harm and steady him. To his surprise, Dr. Cox reached up with his other hand and laid it over J.D.’s.

            “J.D., I wanted – I – “

            “Dr. Cox, what are you doing here?” J.D. wanted to help, but he couldn’t quell the anger he felt. They had all been there, they had all cared; except for him.

            Dr. Cox didn’t answer for a few seconds. He looked at J.D., who was doubly surprised to see tears forming in his eyes.

            “J.D., I – I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t come before now. But I couldn’t, I – I couldn’t do it.”

            “You couldn’t do what?” It was strange; Dr. Cox was always the strong one, angry but sure of himself. A sudden image of Dr. Cox in a jester costume coming before king J.D. to beg forgiveness came into his head. But that wasn’t what was happening here. He suddenly felt great empathy for the man standing before him. _It takes a lot of bravery to admit fault;_ especially for Dr. Cox. The jester hat became a knight’s helmet.

            He could see Dr. Cox starting to speak, but cut him off. He found he didn’t need to hear what he had been hoping to hear for the past month. That Dr. Cox was sorry, that he cared about J.D., loved him even. He stood aside.

            “Just come in.” He guided Dr. Cox over to the couch, sitting beside him. It was silent for a solid minute, and J.D. felt distinctly awkward. He felt a sudden urge to break the silence, to run away, to do _something._ He started to stand up.

            “Do you want some water or coffee or –” Dr. Cox grabbed his arm suddenly, pulling him back down next to him.

            “No, Newbie – J.D. – I have to say something.”

            “Ok.” J.D looked at him wearily.

“J.D. I’ve seen hundreds of interns come through this place. To be honest with ya, I don’t remember most of their names. Now that’s not to say there weren’t some good doctors over the years; there were. But you were different.”

            J.D. looked up. He hadn’t expected that. Dr. Cox continued.

            “Do you know why I pushed you there, Newbie?” J.D. shook his head, though he thought he might know the answer. He wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to hear what he thought Dr. Cox was going to say; he wasn’t sure he would be able to believe Dr. Cox if he told him that he was a great doctor. Dr. Cox looked him straight in the eye.

            “Because I saw how much you cared. I saw you working your ass off even when you thought no one was looking. I saw you agonizing over every little decision, not because you were afraid you might get in trouble, but because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did the wrong thing. It reminded me…it reminded me of what medicine used to mean. I used to be that way too, and somewhere along the way, I think I lost that a little. And you brought it back.”

            They sat in silence for a few moments, J.D. trying to take all this in. He did care. He didn’t think anyone really noticed. Dr. Cox took a deep breath, and continued.

            “I’m invested in you J.D. You must know that, right? Damnit, I might even care about you. And what you did, that hurt.” His eyes fell to J.D.’s arms. J.D. didn’t move. Then J.D. said what he had been thinking every time one of his friends cried for him, or looked at him with that _look_ ; That look that said “you hurt me”.

            “Well you know what? Tough. Because this isn’t about you, or Elliot, or Turk. This is about _me._ You think it hurt you? I’ve spent months – _months –_ in hell. I can’t sleep. Everything I do is a battle. When I cross the road, I imagine being crushed by a truck, and part of me wants it to happen. When a patient comes in who doesn’t make it, I envy them. I feel like nothing matters any more, I’m not worth fighting for anymore. I just want to _go_.”

            Dr. Cox, for once didn’t have a response. He just sat there looking at the young doctor. He looked like he was fighting back tears. Finally, he spoke.

            “I know what that feels like.” J.D., who had been looking at his wringing hands in his lap, looked back up. They were both silent for a long time. Then,

            “I’ve been there before. I know what it feels like.” J.D., despite himself, was curious.

            “What happened?”

            “I swallowed a half a bottle of sleeping pills just after my divorce.”

            “ _What_?” J.D. was stunned. How did he not know about this? His question was answered almost immediately.

            “It wasn’t here. No one here knows. I just felt…lost. And helpless. Like there was nowhere left to go. But that’s not how I feel anymore.” J.D. swallowed.

            “I mean I’m miserable, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t wanna die anymore, J.D. Haven’t for a long time.

            “How did you pull yourself out of it?”

            “I didn’t. I just _lived_. I just kept going. And some days were hell, but others started to feel ok. Then there were more ok days than bad ones, and eventually, the benefits of staying here, on this earth, outweighed the risks of getting hurt.” there was a pause as both of them sat in silence. then Dr. Cox continued. 

            “J.D., I didn’t come before because…honestly I didn't want to be reminded of my own weakness. It was too real, it was like it was happening all over again, only I was on the other side. It hurt me too, J.D. I know you've been hurting, but it hurt me too."

            J.D. felt like he was in shock. No words came into his head; He wasn’t sure what he was hearing was real. Dr. Cox continued.

            “So I was angry. And I tried to convince myself I didn’t care, and I ran from it, like I always do. But I couldn’t stop seeing you, that night, when you were bleeding and I couldn’t help you, and I couldn’t help you when you tried to starve yourself, so how could I help you value your own life? I…” He took a deep breath. 

            “But I was wrong, Newbie. My pride and my stubbornness; I was afraid to admit, even to myself.” His words were slurring together slightly. “I’m sorry.”

            Dr. Cox looked up at J.D., almost pleadingly. J.D. had no words. Before he knew it, he had pulled Dr. Cox into a tight hug, and to his surprise, the older doctor did not pull away.

After a few minutes, when they finally pulled apart, they sat in silence for a little while. J.D.’s thoughts were racing, but he felt good; he felt loved.


	7. Everything

            Two pictures. Two little pictures. But they told a million words worth of stories. The first one was from one year ago. He and Turk stood on a baseball field with their arms around the team mascot. Turk was smiling broadly.

            J.D. was smiling too, but it looked strained, forced. He had dark circles under his eyes, which looked sunken and tired. His hollow cheeks had no color and his skin looked paper thin. He was drowning in the sweatshirt he was wearing, and his jeans looked baggy, though they had fit him when he bought them. He looked sad and weighed-down, as though he was carrying a bag of rocks around in his chest.

            The second picture showed J.D., Turk, Elliot and Carla at the theater a week ago. This J.D. was smiling too, but there was something else behind it that wasn’t in the first one; something genuine. His cheeks were fuller, and he looked healthy. He had on his well-fitted suit jacket. Elliot’s hand rested on his shoulder.

            _You look fat._ J.D. ignored the voice. It was getting easier to do that nowadays, and the voice was getting quieter.

            It was amazing how much easier it was to process what he was feeling when he was eating and keeping everything down. The headaches he frequently felt when he was sick were gone, as was the dizziness (though he did miss that a little). He slept better and laughed more, though of course the sadness was still there sometimes. But it was easier to pull himself out when he got down nowadays.

            He liked his therapist. She was straightforward and perceptive, and it was easy to tell her things. The medication was helping. Things were going well.

            At the hospital, things were more or less back to normal, though the thick scars on his wrists were a continuous reminder of what had happened. He sometimes caught people staring at them – patients, nurses, even Elliot and Carla. He understood, but it made him feel self-conscious.

            Dr. Cox never stared. On the surface, it might seem like nothing had changed between them. But every once in a while, J.D. caught a look, a gesture, something that felt different from how things had been before. He was more patient, perhaps, more forgiving; but it wasn’t pity. It was more like…solidarity.

            It would take them time, the others. But Dr. Cox understood, and J.D. knew that he didn’t respect him any less, that he would always be there to teach him or call him a girl’s name and make him feel normal again. And that was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!


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